


Unsuitable

by kibasniper



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Bows, Comfort, Dress Up, F/F, Fluffy Ending, Gentleness, Hairstyles, Ribbons, Self-Doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 17:33:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16412852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kibasniper/pseuds/kibasniper
Summary: Chabashira has left her bow in the laundry room. She walks in on Harukawa trying it on for herself.





	Unsuitable

**Author's Note:**

> Written for TenMaki Week 2018 over on tumblr.

"Ah!”

The short shout comes out as fully involuntary. Chabashira jerks her hand to her mouth, her other arm extended and ready to throw the person before her. She stands perfectly still in the doorway of the laundry room, a picturesque statue of surprise.

Harukawa, compared to Chabashira’s stillness, is already moving to remove the accessory from her head. Before her hands can wrench it off, Chabashira finds her voice with a few stuttery calls for her to wait. Harukawa hesitates, her eyes narrowing into slits at the unwelcomed intruder.

Chabashira steadies herself, heat flushing her cheeks. She steps into the laundry room, the sounds of humming washing machines drowning out the awkward silence. As Harukawa strokes one of her long twintails, Chabashira beams.

“Harukawa-san, you look stunning!” Chabashira proclaims, raising her fists to her chest.

The compliment is expected from Chabashira, but it doesn’t lessen the scarlet scorching Harukawa’s expression. On her head is Chabashira’s pinwheel bow with the edges slightly wrinkled, left forgotten in the laundry room when Harukawa strolled inside to check on her load. Unlike Chabashira, she wears it like a halo closer to her hairline with her bangs pinned back. Her smooth forehead is exposed, free of blemishes and acne.

Harukawa grumbles and glares at the tiled floor. She had hoped to have only a few moments of privacy wearing Chabashira’s bow, but it seemed like fate conspired against her. She is not a girl who typically focuses on fashion, and yet, Chabashira’s bow enticed her. The way it sprung out, announcing Chabashira’s presence, and the white floral pattern made Harukawa want to wear it.

“Is something wrong?” Chabashira interjects before gasping. She breaks into a wide grin, setting her knuckles to her hips. “Oh! If you’re worried about using Tenko’s bow without permission, then it’s okay. Tenko understands that girls can’t resist cute accessories. After all, that’s why Tenko wears frills on her uniform!”

As Chabashira utters a bellowing laugh, Harukawa ignores the temptation to roll her eyes. She fidgets with the soft material of Chabashira’s bow, the sensation pleasing and foreign to her. She’s used to cold, unfeeling metal in her grasp.

Chabashira tilts her head, her expression softening when she notes Harukawa’s silence. The corners of her lips turn downwards, creating crease marks instead of her normal dimples. She knows Harukawa is someone who prefers to be alone, but something is left unsaid between them, something that Chabashira feels buzzing in the air.

“It’s unsuitable,” Harukawa mumbles, and Chabashira snaps to attention, her own train of thought swiftly forgotten.

“Tenko is sorry. Could you please repeat that?” Chabashira asks, and she shuts the door behind them, the realization that someone could be listening crawling up her spine.

Harukawa sighs, reaching up to remove the bow, but her hands hesitate. Even though her thoughts order her hands to grasp the bow and wrench it off, her mind’s deeper motive steels her. Lowering her hands, she crosses her arms and slams her eyelids down.

“It’s unsuitable for me to wear something childish like this,” she says, spitting out her words as if they carry a vile venom.

Chabashira cringes at ‘childish.’ Words mull over her tongue, but knowing Harukawa, simple platitudes won’t soothe her like they may for Shirogane or Yumeno. She observes the way fire burns in Harukawa’s eyes, warning her to remain miles away instead of reaching out to quell her.

Harukawa reaches for the pins, beginning to unclip them when Chabashira raises her hand. Her senses alert her to danger, and she steps backwards, but she feels foolish once again. Chabashira’s eyes are much too big and full of worry unknown to Harukawa to hide deadly intentions.

Chabashira comes closer with quiet footsteps, angelic compared to her normal boisterous stride. “Harukawa-san, you’re allowed to feel cute and pretty. Tenko thinks you’re going through something difficult, something you may not want to talk about with Tenko, but that’s okay! Tenko understands.” She sets her hands on Harukawa’s shoulders, applying gentle pressure. “Harukawa-san, would you like you to try on Tenko’s ribbons? Tenko thinks they would look lovely on you.”

Her words color Harukawa’s world with rare kindness. Harukawa’s expression narrows, her thoughts commanding her to refute Chabashira, but her hands move instead. She reaches for her hair and grabs her scrunchies, tearing them off like one would rip off bandages. In the stillness of the laundry room with only whirring washing machines, Harukawa straightens and presents her back to Chabashira.

“I’m not one to care about my hair,” Harukawa protests, earning a giggle in return.

“Tenko thinks Harukawa-san has gorgeous, silky hair,” Chabashira replies, removing her ribbows. As her hair falls down her back, she collects Harukawa’s long locks and sighs as the soft tresses flow in her palms. She wraps her ribbons around the nape of Harukawa’s neck and pushes her hair over her shoulders.

Harukawa glances at a nearby mirror on the wall where the remains of an ivy-infested communal sink are. Despite it being cracked, Harukawa sees herself cleary. The white ribbons tickle her cheeks, and Chabashira stands behind her, leaning forward with her strong hands pressed to her shoulders.

“What do you think? You look stunning wearing Tenko’s accessories!” Chabashira gushes, and she is brighter than any star Harukawa has ever seen. She claps her hands to her cheeks, a trickle of drool touching her lower lip. “T-T-Tenko thinks you’d also look good wearing her clothes! Frills look good on any girl, but they’d look exceptional on you!”

Compliments rain down on her, and instead of frigid drops assaulting her skin, they are warm and delightful. Harukawa puffs out one cheek, filled with air and retorts to Chabashira’s claims. She fidgets with the hem of her sailor uniform, and her thumb presses into her stomach, burning her fingernail a dark pink.

Harukawa isn’t supposed to be anything other than a killer. For her to act like a girl having someone gussying up her hair, she feels like she is looking at someone else’s reflection. Despite the warmth in her chest, life’s hardships create a separate person receiving Chabashira’s praise.

“Harukawa-san?” Chabashira calls. She presses her lips together in a tight line.

Harukawa bows her head. She lifts her fingers to caress the satin ribbons, and instead of tearing them off, she tries to smile. Closing her eyes, Harukawa threads through her hair and pushes her twintails over her shoulders.

She is a killer, certainly, but she isn’t so rude to allow Chabashira’s kindness to be wasted on someone as unfeeling as her. With a numbed murmur of gratitude, she starts to unwind the ribbons, but Chabashira’s hand clutches her wrist. Her gasp is swiftly muted, replaced with immediate fury.

Chabashira peers down on her with the same earnesty. She keeps smiling, her eyes open and honest, giving Harukawa her full self. She’s open to attacks, which they both realize, but the girls remain close. Their bodies press together, and Chabashira cups Harukawa’s cheek, her own boldness surprising her.

“Tenko may not understand what Harukawa-san is fully feeling, but please know that Tenko is here for you,” she whispers, her smile placating Harukawa’s subdued anger, “and that Harukawa-san is a wonderful girl.”

Harukawa snorts, “Even if I’m a killer?”

“You’ve expressed that you wanted to change,” Chabashira replies, and Harukawa glances away, her vow coming forth in her thoughts. “Tenko believes in you. Please, believe in yourself, too, that you deserve better. Tenko doesn’t have any right to judge anything you’ve done, but Harukawa-san, Tenko is here for you always.”

Such purity and gentleness could have made anyone begin bawling into Chabashira’s chest, but Harukawa remains stiff. Even though she is moved by Chabashira, she doesn’t reply with simple words. She rests her head on Chabashira’s shoulder, taking in the faded rosy scent of her worn perfume. Closing her eyes, Harukawa mumbles her thanks once more.

Chabashira’s lips pucker together as she blushes, her arms mechanically embracing Harukawa. She pins Harukawa to her body, every atom of her thankful for the opportunity to hold a beautiful girl. When Harukawa hesitantly snakes her arms around her waist, Chabashira feels like she has died and gone to paradise.

When Harukawa pats her back, it’s a sign to let go. Chabashira releases her, bubbly and floaty from the high of feeling Harukawa melt against her. When Harukawa gestures at her bow, Chabashira giggles.

“We can share accessories! You can borrow them anytime you’d like,” she insists, and Harukawa smiles.

“Maybe...you’d like to wear these?” Harukawa offers her scrunchies, and Chabashira nearly shrieks, clapping her hands together by her chin.

“O-o-o-of course! Tenko would love to wear them!” Chabashira cries, grabbing the scrunchies.

As Chabashira pulls her hair back, Harukawa crosses her arms. Perhaps even a killer deserves some peace to act like a girl. Watching Chabashira smile and praise their cute looks in the broken mirror, Harukawa is inclined to agree for the first time in her life.


End file.
